


Exorcizamus Te, Omnis Immundus Spiritus...

by eddiewrites307



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (Obviously), Alternate Universe - Demons, Beverly Katz is the Best, Blasphemy, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Catholicism, Churches & Cathedrals, Death, Demon Hannibal Lecter, Demons, Human Will Graham, Lots of it, M/M, Mind Control, Priest Hannibal Lecter, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Someone Help Will Graham, cursing, dont worry, idk how Catholicism works, is it cannibalism if he's not actually human, not of Will tho, sorta??, this one is lengthy folks, very consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25752592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddiewrites307/pseuds/eddiewrites307
Summary: When Will is forced to question the enigmatic priest, Father Lecter, for a case, he certainly didn't expect to grow so close to the man, nor to become privy to his dark secret
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87
Collections: Hannibal





	Exorcizamus Te, Omnis Immundus Spiritus...

Will Graham and spirituality didn’t tend to mix well, if ever. Growing up in New Orleans made any kind of relationship with religion difficult, and that trend of difficulty only continued as he moved away from his hometown to start a new life in the town of Wolf Trap, West Virginia. He quickly got work as a professor at the FBI academy, avoiding the persistent requests to use his empathy disorder and help out in the field as often as he could. He never needed religion, never found any use for it.

Then, Jack Crawford managed to drag Will’s sorry ass out to Baltimore for a serial killer that went on a spree every two years, then left him at a fuckin’ Catholic church of all things to talk to the head priest. So now, here he was, hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyeing the stained glass warily as he waited for said priest to meet him.

“Agent Graham?”   


“Not an agent,” Will corrected automatically as he spun around, taking in the priest with a critical eye.

The man was tall, taller than Will himself, and broad in the shoulders. His face seemed to be solely made up of angles and sharp edges, but it was softened by the kind smile he currently had directed at the twitchy mess of a man before him.

“My apologies, Mr. Graham,” he said, his dark eyes twinkling. He had some kind of an eastern European accent, but not one Will could immediately place. “I merely assumed you would be, if Jack had entrusted you with the questioning.”   


“He entrusts me because I’m good at picking up on the undertones of what people are saying.” Will broke eye contact, looking back at the glass depictions of Hell that took up one of the walls. “Empathy disorder. He’ll be taking me to look at the bodies later, see what emotional residue the killer left. They always leave something.”   


“You can get into their headspace,” the priest mused, but he didn’t press. Instead, he followed Will’s line of sight, shifting ever-so-slightly closer as he gazed at the stained glass. “Hauntingly beautiful, is it not?”   


“If you’re into that sort of thing.”   


Thin lips curled into a faint smile. “I’m a priest, Mr. Graham, but I am also an artist. Hell is an ultimatum, the place where you fall when you’ve committed such sin in your mortal life that God himself can not stand to look upon you. The Devil punishes those who do terrible things, yet he is regarded as the most terrible and sinful of them all. That is, perhaps, the most confusing thing about this religion.” He flashed a smile full of sharp teeth to Will. “Tell me, Mr. Graham, do you believe you’re headed to Heaven or Hell?”   


“It’s just Will, please,” Will said, shaking off the feeling of unease that the question rose. The man was a priest, this was just how they worked, right? “And I’m not exactly what you’d call a religious man, Father…?”   


“How rude of me, I had presumed Jack provided my name.” The man took Will’s hand between both of his own, the grasp gentle but firm. “My name is Hannibal Lecter. You may call me Father, Father Lecter, or simply Hannibal if you so desire.”

“It’s best if we don’t get personal, Father Lecter,” Will said stiffly, retracting his hand back. Father Lecter let him go, a small smile still on his face. “I’m not here to make friends, just to catch a killer.”   


“I won’t get in between you and your goal, dear Will, but it couldn’t hurt to be personal.” Father Lecter folded his hands behind his back, his head tilting ever so slightly, the candlelight catching his eyes and making them gleam odd colors. “Now, what did you wish to ask?”   


“I wanted to talk about your sermons,” Will said. “From what I’ve seen of crime scene photos, all the killings have some kind of religious meaning behind them. More than one have been nailed to a cross, there have been psalms in Latin carved and burned into the skin, and all of the victims, seven in total, have a record of some kind, something that’s seen as sinful. You know, murder, adultery, stuff like that. This is the largest church in the area, and Jack said he knew you from previous circumstances, so you were our first choice in questioning.”   


Father Lecter, to his credit, had a truly impressive poker face. He remained passive and polite throughout Will’s rambling, and nodded when he finished. “You believe it to be one of my receivers of Gods word,” he said thoughtfully. “I must admit, I’d hate to think ill of my congregation, but many disturbed individuals do come here to seek solace.”   


“Can you think of anyone off the top of your head that could kill seven people?”   


“You must understand, Will, my congregation is vast. Many come to hear me speak, and I couldn’t name the majority of them.” Father Lecter’s lips quirked into another one of those barely-there smiles. “I would suggest coming by this Sunday and looking for yourself, see if anyone draws you in in such a way.”   


Will frowned, but he couldn’t outright refuse. The priest was right, it would make the most sense for Will to come by and try to see if anyone’s outpouring of emotions matched the righteous fury in the photos.

Besides, he couldn’t deny his intrigue at seeing the sermon. Father Lecter was very good at keeping himself closed off; Will couldn’t get a decent read on him at all. There was something inherently fascinating in being faced with someone that he couldn’t read.

So, Will nodded, and shook Father Lecter’s hand in farewell. “I’ll see you then.”   


~

The most recent crime scene allowed for pure chaos.

Jack quickly cleared the scene, allowing Will to be alone with the pendulum swinging behind his eyes. 

_ Terribly rude, this poor soul was. Hardly worth the air he breathed. God will not bother with his punishment, so I must take things into my own hands, I assume. Terribly typical. _

_ I’m charming. He does not suspect anything as I draw near him, asks how he is doing. I’m a figure he respects. That, of course, makes it that much sweeter a sin when I get close enough to reveal the blade hidden in my sleeve, grasping his wrist and slitting a clean line from hand to elbow.  _

_ The man screams. “What are you doing? What are you -- please god no! Don’t do this!”  _

_ God has nothing to do with this. God isn’t here, and he will not help you. I am all there is now. _

Will stumbled back with a gasp, eyes wide and unseeing. He felt a hand on his shoulder and fought reflexively to get away.

“Will! Will, get a hold of yourself!”   


Jack. That was Jack’s voice.

Will blinked, and loosened the death grip he apparently had on Jack’s wrists. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice sounding raw and cracked open, even to himself. Blue eyes gazed back upon the body, taking in the full extent of the damage. Both hands were removed and laid in front of the corpse, palms up, almost like an offering. Both wrists were fully slit, the flesh peeled back to show the muscle and bone beneath. Both eyes and lungs had been removed -- the eyes were in each hand, the lungs nowhere to be seen. The victim’s face was stuck in an eternal look of pure terror as he knelt on the pavement. It was oddly, sickeningly beautiful. 

Will crouched down to see his ribs, where a phrase had been carved. “‘Facies: non adulterabis,’” he read.

Jimmy Price, a fellow investigator, leaned over Will’s shoulder and squinted at the words. “Latin,” he announced. “It translates roughly to ‘thou shalt not commit adultery’, like in the Ten Commandments. Fits with the religious theme.”   


“Do you just know Latin?” Another investigator, Brian Zeller, asked in a tone that was both awestruck and judgemental.

Price scoffed. “I know Catholicism.”

“Will, what did you see?” Jack asked firmly, distracting the two techs from their imminent bickering. Will didn’t bother looking away from the corpse, and when he answered, his voice didn’t quite sound like his own.

“The killer found him rude. He killed him on some sort of twisted moral code.” He sneered slightly, and his voice deepened impercibly as he gazed at the bloodied mess before him. “God would not waste his time on you, it was up to others.”   


No one blinked an eye at the rather victim-blame-y tone, all of them more than used to Will. Jack did frown, however. “He thinks he’s some sort of vigilante of God?”   


Will shook his head and stood, feeling his own consciousness return to him. “No, he’s not doing this  _ for _ God. He thinks God won’t interfere, this is more out of spite than anything. The religion is...complicated, really, this guy enjoys what he does far too much to think that it’ll get him points for Heaven.”   


Jack sighed. “Great, a sadistic bastard who kills sinners for fun. That’s exactly what we need right now.”   


Will smiled weakly, adjusting his glasses as he looked back to the hands and eyes that were set up in a mocking offering.

An offering.

Huh.   


~   


Sunday came much faster than previously anticipated, and Will found himself in a ratty suit jacket and a vaguely decent button up, standing on the steps of the threateningly large church. His hands were sweating as his mind unhelpfully supplied images of the old church in New Orleans his father made him go to as a child. 

“I must admit, I didn’t think you’d come.”   


Will jumped, whirling around to see Father Lecter smiling in a rather apologetic way. “Jesu-jeez, I mean,” Will sighed, putting a hand to his chest, rubbing over his racing heart. “Sorry, I always get a little jumpy when working.”   


“I shouldn’t have startled you.” Father Lecter inclined his head, though there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. Will found himself distracted by that spark, just for a moment; he nearly jumped again when Father Lecter’s hand found his elbow, guiding him into the looming building. “Come now, I’ll find you a seat in the back where you can see everyone, and still hear.”   


Will allowed himself to be led, fighting the blush threatening to rise in his cheeks -- sue him, the man may be a priest but he was an attractive one -- as Father Lecter placed him in a back corner. 

“You said you aren’t very religious,” he hummed by Will’s ear as he slowly relinquished his hold on his arm. “I do hope I am able to change your mind.” With that, the priest turned and walked towards the front, leaving a gaping Will to stare at his back.

The low murmur that had been holding steady in the room as people conversed grew hushed as Father Lecter moved, the awestruck eyes of easily over a hundred people taking his confident form.

When he turned to face the congregation, the energy was palpable, and Will had to fight not to be swept away by it. It became clear very quickly that these people all but worshipped their priest, he had yet to speak and they were already leaning forward in anticipation. Will’s eyes scanned the crowd for anyone who could be a threat, who could take their adoration to the level of murder, but he saw nothing.

Father Lecter began to speak.

“Esteemed guests of the church,” he began, eyes twinkling warmly. “I welcome you to my service. We all come from different paths of life...some raised in the church, some impartial, some even rejecting God. Yet, here we are, all listening to teachings on His word.”   


He began to speak about some story from the Old Testament, one of righteous fury and smiting, his accent curling around the words as he occasionally slipped into the Latin of the original text. His words were enthralling, drawing in his audience with seemingly little effort, and Will had to actively fight not to allow himself to fall under the soothing cadence of the man’s tone. Will forced his own distraction, taking in what information he could by glancing around.

One, the people of the congregation really were scarily intrigued by the priest. From what Will could remember, there were always people talking in hushed tones during sermons, whether it was a brief explanation, gossip, or simply children chattering. But there was none of that here. Everyone sat in reverent silence, eyes trained on the enigmatic man in front of them.

Two, the Latin to English flow was seamless. Father Lecter could go from one language to the other with no difficulty, offering translations and interpretations without stuttering once.

Third, and perhaps the most unusual. Every church Will had ever been in, every sermon he had ever attended, the priest spoke about God as many did; an all powerful, all knowing being, one who had a reason for everything that happened under His watchful eye, and one who loved each of His children. Father Lecter offered a new perspective. He never outright said anything of the sort, but the way he spun God’s words suggested a caricature, the sort of being who left His creations alone to fend for themselves, to make their own foolish mistakes without guidance.

Will watched closely as the sermon came to a close, head spinning as he tried to comprehend the words that he had heard. The man was a wonderful speaker, it was impossible to deny that, and Will really couldn’t deny the persistent pull he felt towards him, but something was simply off. 

It could just be the fact that Will still had yet to pick up on a single one of Father Lecter’s emotions or motives, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the priest wasn’t quite what he seemed.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”   


Will jumped, then gathered the remnants of his dignity with a sigh as he turned to face the priest. “I’m beginning to think you’re sneaking up on me on purpose,” he accused jokingly, and Father Lecter smiled.

“Nonsense,” he protested. “I simply wished to hear your thoughts.”   


Will eyed him critically for a moment. “Well, you’re certainly unlike any priest I’ve ever heard before, so that’s something in your favor,” he said carefully. “That being said, I can’t say I’ve been swayed to believing that there’s anything resembling a god out there.”   


Father Lecter looked taken aback, and Will inwardly cheered. This was the sort of man who was very used to his word being taken as gospel, literally. He hadn’t expected Will not to fall victim of his spell.

“Perhaps I simply need more time to convince you.” Father Lecter recollected himself quickly, and a large hand grasped Will’s shoulder as he smiled. “Everyone should have someone to believe in.”   


Will’s mind stuck briefly on the word choice.

Someone to believe in.

Someone.

Not necessarily God.

“You believe yourself to be that person?” The words flew from WIll’s mouth before he could stop them, and he was granted a small, but genuine, and more than a little unsettling smile.

“I would be honored,” he said in a low tone, squeezing Will’s shoulder before disappearing into the crowd. Will sought to follow him, but it was as though he had vanished -- there was no trace of him.

“Excuse me,” Will asked a woman nearby, struck with a sudden thought. She looked at him expectantly. “How long has Father Lecter been preaching here?”   


She laughed lightly. “You’re new, aren’t you, sweetheart? Oh, no one knows just how long he’s been here, but it’s certainly been as long as anyone can remember!” She laughed again, and bid him a good day as she walked off, leaving Will’s head spinning.

As long as anyone could remember…Father Lecter couldn’t be older than fifty.

Something was definitely going on with this church.

~   


Eventually, the murder case got dropped in favor of the next one. With no evidence, no leads, no anything, it was difficult to keep it in the priority pile, and Jack gave up. The team packed up and left Baltimore, and Will was able to return to his quiet life amongst his seven dogs in Wolf Trap.

At least, he figured he’d be able to do so. In reality, every Sunday, he came back to the church.

He still managed to just barely avoid falling under whatever spell Father Lecter had managed to trap the rest of the church under, but there was still something so ridiculously enigmatic about the older man that he couldn’t stay away. The priest seemed to know this, too; he would always come up to Will before and after services for snatches of conversation, all confusing comments and thinly veiled innuendos.

The man was intoxicating.

“Will,” he called as Will made to escape the after-service crowd. “Perhaps, if you’d like, we could see each other outside of a religious setting?”   


Will froze, eyes widening. Somehow, the masses seemed entirely unaware of what was happening, but he felt his breathing hitch regardless. “Father Lecter…” he said slowly, mind racing to gather his thoughts. “Is that allowed?”   


“Perhaps not.” Father Lecter reached out and lightly grasped Will’s wrist, brushing a long finger over his pulse point and effectively cutting off his escape. “However, I am not one who often follows arbitrary rules.” He smirked slightly, his gaze lingering down by Will’s lips before meeting his eyes. “You haven’t given an answer.”   


Will tried to resist, he really did, but attempting to resist a man like this is futile at best. “Yes,” he breathed. He dug in his pocket for a business card with his free hand, giving it to the priest before him. “Here. Call me, anytime.” He smiled, shyer than he had felt in years, trying to ignore the flush he was sure was present on his cheekbones. 

Father Lecter took the card, releasing Will’s wrist, who immediately missed the feeling. “I shall,” he said warmly, lowly, as though it was their little secret. Which, really, it was. “And, Will?”   


“Yes?”   


“Call me Hannibal. Please.”   


Will smothered a wide grin, nodding to Father Lecter -- no, Hannibal -- as he turned and left.

~

“Beverly, I haven’t been on a date in over a decade,  _ please  _ cut me some slack.” Will was  _ not  _ whining, thank you very much. He was simply complaining. Bitterly. In a manly sense.

“Don’t whine about it, you human disaster,” Beverly Katz laughed. She worked in the morgue with Price and Zeller, and she and Will had grown close when he realized that she was one of the few people who looked at him without some form of pity in their eyes. Come to think of it, Hannibal was one of those people too.

“ _ Over a decade _ ,” Will stressed. “And you haven’t seen this guy, Beverly. He’s gorgeous, and charismatic, and he runs a church for fucks sake. The hell is he doing asking me out?”

“Stop,” Beverly said severely. “You’re a goddamn catch, Graham, and evidently this guy knows it.”   


Will sighed. “Thanks.”   


Beverly patted his cheek. “Anytime, princess,” she teased. “Now, you said the date was after work, yeah? Where are you going, and what are you gonna wear?”   


Will blinked. “Uh, some high end coffee shop that he usually hits before services, he’s really fond of it. And…” he trailed off, looking down at himself. “This?”   


Beverly stared at him for a long moment. “You’re wearing a plaid button down and khakis, both covered in dog-hair and morgue smell. That’s it, I’m coming over and we’re playing dress up.”

~

“Jesus freakin’ Christ Will, do you own a single article of decent clothing?”   


Beverly was rifling through Will’s closet and dresser, rambling nonsensically about colors the whole time, while Will sulked uselessly on his bed, two dogs curled up beside him. 

“I doubt Hannibal expects me to suddenly whip out a tuxedo,” Will said dryly, his hand finding the spot on his dog's head and scratching. “He’s seen me before, you know.”

“But this is the first time he’s seen you in a romantic setting!” Beverly pointed a finger at him. “And it is my God-given mission, Will Graham, to make you look entirely, irresistibly, overwhelmingly fuckable.”   


“Beverly!”   


“No, no arguing, we’re getting you some holy dick tonight.” Beverly emphasized her argument by throwing a blue shirt Will hadn’t worn in years at his face, along with a pair of decent slacks. “There, casual but good-looking. The color will bring out your eyes, and if those pants are as tight as they look, your ass will look practically edible.”   


Will made a face at her. “Are you at least gonna leave while I change?”   


“Nope.”   


“Alright then.”   


Will pulled on the slacks, which were rather tight on his backside, under Beverly’s watchful eyes, before hurriedly buttoning up the shirt. He spread his arms wide, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Ta-da.”   


Beverly looked him up and down critically. “The shirt looks good. Broadens your shoulders, makes your eyes pop. Turn for me.”   


Will did so.

Beverly grinned. “Aw yeah, he’s gonna be on his knees for a whole other reason tonight when he sees that ass,” she crowed victoriously.

“Fucking hell, Beverly,” Will hissed, swatting at her. “That’s disgusting, you’re disgusting.”   


“I’m right though.” She swatted back, hitting his ass firmly, before pushing him towards the door. “Now go! Go get some!”   


“I hate you,” Will complained as he grabbed his keys, heading to his car.

“And don’t let me see you come to work tomorrow without a limp!”   


~   


The coffee shop was, indeed, very high end. Will had gotten there a few minutes late, but he hardly had to look around before Hannibal had practically materialized at his elbow.

“Hello, Will.” He smiled, a small but noticeable expression. “You look lovely.”   


“So do you,” Will stammered out, ears burning. It was true, Hannibal looked amazing. He wore a dark three piece suit that was incredibly well-tailored, his hair with it’s usual subtle amount of gel sweeping it back.

_ Of course he’s the kind of asshole to wear three piece suits casually. _

Hannibal gently took hold of Will’s arm, leading him to the counter. He greeted the barista with a polite, yet charming smile, making the young girl flush, before ordering a specific type of blend that Will couldn’t repeat the pronunciation of if he tried. The barista nodded, signalling for her coworker to start making the drink, then turned to Will expectantly.

There was no menu, no anything, apparently the place was too classy for it. “Uh...black coffee?” Will said awkwardly, inwardly wishing that he could just melt into the floor. The barista blinked.

Before Will could stick his foot any further into his own mouth, Hannibal cleared his throat. “Italian dark roast, if you please,” he said pleasantly, before aiming a smile at Will. “My apologies, I should have assumed you’d get a bit confused.”

“It’s fine, really,” Will mumbled, digging in his slacks pocket for his wallet. Hannibal stilled him quickly.

“I asked you out, my dear Will, let me cover the cost,” he said quietly, handing over his card to the barista before Will could protest. The same feeling Will always got at the church was back, the feeling that he wanted to submit to whatever Hannibal said, but he shook it off quickly.

The barista rang them up and got them their drinks quickly and efficiently, and the two men found a corner table.

“So, uh, I gotta ask,” Will said as they settled down. “How does it work out? Being a queer Catholic priest, I mean.”   


Hannibal didn’t quite show his amusement, but Will knew how to read him well enough that he could see it in his eyes. “It’s one of the many things I tend to keep quiet for the sake of my job.” His eyes twinkled. They looked nearly red in this lighting. “Priests are often not as committed to purity as one may think.”   


“Oh?” Will leaned forward, breath catching in his throat. “And just how non-committed to purity are you, Father?”

Hannibal’s eyes darkened, and he raised a hand to gently cup Wills face, his long fingers slipping into soft curls. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweet William,” he said lowly, as to not attract the attention of other customers. “Every man has his limits.”

Will leaned to his touch, not breaking eye contact. “Perhaps I want to break those limits,” he breathed.

“Perhaps I want to break you.”   


They left quickly after that, drinks abandoned at the table, steam still rising from the mugs.

~   


Will awoke the next day, confused first at how well-rested he felt, then at where he was. This was definitely not his room in Wolf Trap, and his sheets definitely weren’t usually this soft. It took a moment for the events of the previous night to come back to him.

Oh.

_ Oh. _

He sat upright with a slight wince. One thing he certainly hadn’t expected from the enigmatic priest was how  _ animalistic  _ he was, not that Will was at all complaining. He was sore in the best way, and there was more than one vivid hickey blooming on his throat.

He could hear pans clattering downstairs, so he pulled on the shirt nearest to him -- probably Hannibal’s, judging by the way it hung loose on him -- and his boxers, grabbing his phone off the bedside table and making his way down to the kitchen.

Hannibal was standing at the stove, freshly showered and clad only in pajama pants that sat low on his hips, stirring something in a frying pan. Will padded up to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling into his back. “That smells good,” he hummed. “You cook?”   


Hannibal rested his free hand over Will’s, continuing to stir. “I consider cooking an art form,” he said softly. “I am very particular about what goes into my body, and I am always sure to source the ingredients myself.”   


Will peeked over his shoulder into the pan. “I can tell those are eggs, but what’s the meat in them?”   


“Heart,” Hannibal said easily, and Will made a disgruntled noise into his shoulder. “Every bit of meat can be turned into a delicacy, my Will, as long as it is prepared properly.”   


“I’ll try it, but I can’t promise I’ll like it,” Will said, releasing Hannibal to look at his phone as it buzzed with a text.

_ New body, Jack will be calling you soon. He thinks it’s the same guy from Baltimore?? The new vic is missing his heart. I expect all the details of your date when you get here btw, weird dead guy or no. -Beverly xx _

Will froze, his mind connecting two dots that he really wished weren’t connecting.

“Hey, Hannibal?” He asked, fighting to keep his voice casual. “What kinda heart is that?”   


Hannibal arched an eyebrow at him. “The heart of an animal, of course,” he said lightly. There was a hint of edge in his tone, one that made the hairs on the back of Will’s neck stand up. “One that was slaughtered for a meal that would be worth the end of his life.”   


“Oh  _ god _ ,” Will whispered, backing away. “You...the case I met you on, that was you. And last night, you, you  _ snuck out _ , you killed someone again!”   


Hannibal, calm as you please, turned off the flame of the stove, turning to face Will fully. “That’s a dangerous accusation to make, Will,” he said mildly.

“You’re not even denying it!” Will said, words rushing together, palms sweating and heart racing. “You’re a killer, a cannibal, you were going to feed me your victims heart!”   


Hannibal tilted his head, lips curling into a smirk that held none of it’s usual warmth. His teeth looked awfully sharp. “It’s hardly cannibalism, my darling boy. Cannibalism would require me to be human.”   


It took a second for the words to penetrate Will’s panicked brain fog, but once he did, he couldn’t hold back a derisive snort. “Oh my god, you’re fucking delusional. You’re actually fucking delusional, I slept with a fucking nutjob.”   


“Terribly rude of you to say such a thing.” Hannibal’s tone sharpened like a knife, his eyes flashing. The room seemed to drop several degrees; Will’s breath hitched. “I am not delusional, nor am I, as you say, a ‘fucking nutjob’. I’m sure you’ve noticed, my precious creature, the oddities that seem to trail behind me.”   


“The church,” Will realized, horror coloring his tone. “That’s why they’re so enraptured. I’ve never seen anyone listen like that to another human. You, you did something to them.”   


“People listen when I speak,” Hannibal said easily, moving closer to Will, who stood frozen to his spot. “Human minds are so easy to meld, I simply have to make suggestions and you all fall into my lap.”   


“I never did.”   


Hannibal’s snakelike smile turned more genuine. “No, my darling, you didn’t. You are the one soul on the Earth who I could not instantly ensnare; that, perhaps, is what drew me so strongly to you.” He reached up, cupping Will’s face, just as he had at the coffee shop. Will couldn’t fight the impulse to lean into the touch. “My beautiful boy.” Hannibal sounded awestruck. “You are so consumed by fear, yet you don’t flinch from my hand.”   


“If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve,” Will said softly. He had no proof of this, of course, but something told him it was accurate. “Right?”   


“You’re right indeed,” Hannibal said. His eyes flashed a bright, bloody red. “And if anyone else dares to do so, I shall tear them limb from limb, and use their flesh to keep you fed.”   


“Hannibal…” Will broke. This man before him, this creature, had killed people. Probably many more than Will knew or would ever know, but...he loved him. God help him, he loved him. He couldn’t leave this, he couldn’t go back to having no one. “What are you?”   


Hannibal drew Will close, breathing in his scent. “I am what you humans would call a  _ daemonium _ , a demon. I have walked this earth since the dawn of time, with chaos festering in my wake. And you, my sweet, are the sole human that I have truly claimed.”   


_ Demon. _

_ Claimed _ .

“What does that mean?” Will asked, wide-eyed.

“It means, when you die, I will bring you down to Hell. We will hold a position of power together. Until then, I will stay by your side, a provider and protector, and you will give yourself to me entirely. I will burn my sigil into your ribs, so that Heaven and Hell alike will see you and know that you are mine.” Hannibal moved his hand to Will’s hair, petting and stroking the strands firmly, comfortingly. “Is this agreeable? I will not do it without your consent.”   


Will buried his face in Hannibal’s neck, breathing in deeply, noting for the first time the lack of a pulsepoint.

He knew his answer. 

~   


“There he is!” Beverly exclaimed, swinging an arm around Will’s shoulders, poking the hickey above his collar. “I take it everything went well, huh? You gonna keep him around?”   


Will smiled, rubbing at his side, where his ribs still ached. “Yeah, I’m gonna keep him around. Now, let's go look at a body.”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I'm gonna actually catch fire if I ever go back to church after writing this
> 
> Based loosely off of an artwork by mushbuzz on Tumblr, it's truly stunning


End file.
